London, my beloved

The melody of the city

Oh London, I was dreaming about you again. I woke up disoriented, homesick for your foreign magic, your crowded streets and your Victorian architecture. Yearning for your bittersweet taste & the sweet, cool smell of your early mornings. I’m craving for your sights to touch my eyes again. I want your atmosphere wrapping around me, like a plush blanket or a rubber rain-coat. My memories are blurry now, they are close to fading. It’s a process I can’t seem to manually slow down. There are gaps in images in my memory and there’s confusion in my sense of time. I wish to travel back sometimes, but this journey seems impossible to design. A defect occurs whenever I come close to trying. But giving up doesn’t feel like an option either.

Fading memories & time that is perished

I dream in shades of black and white and I daydream in fading colours. I reminisce and re-wind until I realise reality took a different course lately. I try to stand my ground and focus my eyes on the future, even though I can’t foresee the padding of the upcoming days. But the echoing past keeps calling my name whenever I get reminded of that place, through red city lights or tongue drops, online photographs or suggestive lyrics. It’s all so far gone, even further it travels. Everything vanishes and soon all that was will be a recollection full of misconceptions, wrong impressions and biased romanticisation, based on sentiment. How I wish to keep the stories complete, original as they are being told…

I have a hard time adapting, I guess that’s why my mind chose to forget, to make it easier to make a change. But even now and then I get lost in a wave of melancholy, I almost drown in my weak attempt to swim. Being breathless is a side-effect of being overwhelmed, I noticed, one that is dangerous for my health, I’m well aware.

Desiring the unattainable, loudly in the quiet

There are particular things I miss and places I’m homesick for. I wonder if the city is homesick for me too? If I’m being missed in the way that I’ve been missing bits and pieces of this place that I love so much. Oh, what I would give to stroll down Primrose Hill again, while the sun sets in. To end in a state of awe and being mesmerised by the sublimity of the sum of unreachable things that are more untouchable with the passing of the days. How I would love to get lost in those dusty bookstores again and spend all my pocketchange on the poetry of strangers and ideas of ancient authors.

Strangely enough I miss the public transport the most. I miss dissolving in the mass, losing my identity while keeping it in tact. Back then, I discovered music sounds best a few feet under ground, whilst getting lost in a film scene, travelling from A to B. I used to love the different kind of people on the train, their vibrant colours and authentic patterns; so eye-catching and refreshing. All those perspectives, all those lives, those dreams and stories. It’s weird to realise that we’re all estranged, but actually we’re all the same.

Please take me back, to the places where I made memories with friends, that are impossible to forget. I miss their faces, their sweet laughter and fruitful advice, I’m able to ignore so well, against all knowledge. It’s lonely in this remote village, miles away from this place I call home. Days go by but the missing of these folks doesn’t diminish. Phone calls, voice messages, and texts don’t make up for the distance in between. A space that seems to grow with every night of sleep.

Longing for recurrence & waiting for an encounter

I wish to be back. I crave for the wandering, the exploring, the unknown, the old and the new. I want to get lost again in unfamiliar places and fill my days with doing things I’ve never done before. By now I’ve acknowledged it’s not the right time for me to stay in a place that is surely capable of offering me magic and experiences, but unable to offer me livelihood. It took me some time to admit, that I entered an era again of preparing and early manifestation. But it’s alright. This, because I know that soon or later, I’ll return and it will be for a forever. It will be easier and this time there will be a map that is not as difficult to read.

6 thoughts on “London, my beloved

  1. Sir Winston Churchill once said, “He who becomes bored with London is obviously bored with life.”

    I’ve only visited London and the British Isles 3 times in my life, but the place created such an impact on my mind and memory that all 3 of those visits stand out in my mind as if they happened only yesterday.

    It created such an impact on me, that most of the major action in the vampire novels I write occurs in London.

    It too is a place I long to visit again.

    Along with Paris which is a place I hope to visit someday for the first time.

    Liked by 1 person

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  3. Well, most of my country is torn apart by xenophobia right now, but hopefully there is something left of this shithole for me to mildly relate to the beauty you see in the places you’ve lived in. Right now, I can just reminisce about the guy I saw burn to death a few hours ago. Lol.


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